Easy to Remember
by Heaven Star
Summary: A small collection of Hanatarou-centric drabbles and oneshots. Rated T to allow concept room if required.
1. Warmth

**Disclaimer: **_"Bleach"_, its characters, major concepts and related ideas are the property of Tite Kubo (and probably a lot of other people who aren't me). This unauthorised work of fanfiction is intended for personal entertainment purposes and not for profit; please, don't sue. If you happen to have any rights to the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.

**A/N: **After hitting a metaphoric creative wall I've decided to try and get my rusty writing skills working again with some fanfiction writing (as you do). This set of Hanatarou-centric drabbles and one-shots are predominantly written for my best friend who is a big Hana fan. I hope you enjoy them as well and, as always, reviews, input and constructive criticism are much appreciated! Also, this fic is rated T as I'm leaving myself a bit of room to move content-wise in case I need it.

* * *

**Warmth **

A harsh wind ripped across the courtyard, hitting the young healer ruthlessly as he hurried towards the large building which functioned as the main infirmary. It was a hard winter this year; the Seireitei was covered in thick snow, and ice had slicked itself liberally across the walkways. A combination of the abnormally early onset of cold weather and the dangerous icy conditions meant that the Fourth Division had been inundated with sick and injured Shinigami. Luckily, the problems – colds, broken bones, and the like – were easily treated; however, the sheer number requiring care meant that the Fourth had doubled all shifts, including the evening and night care rosters, in order to handle the increased workload.

The young healer shivered as he stepped into the familiar hallway before the warmth within the building slid through his uniform to slowly begin to warm his bones. He smiled and bowed respectfully to Lieutenant Kotetsu, who was standing in front of the infirmary door supervising the shift hand-over. She smiled when she saw him and said,

"Thank you for helping with this shift, Hanatarou."

The young healer smiled and replied, his voice shaking slightly as he shivered, the last of the cold having not quite left him,

"Ah, it's no problem."

The silver-haired Lieutenant sighed and looked away for a moment, saying,

"It's always hard to find people to fill Friday night shifts at short notice."

Hanatarou smiled awkwardly before weakly attempting to put a humorous spin on the situation,

"Well, luckily I didn't have anything planned…"

Isane looked back to him, smiled sympathetically and patted the short healer kindly on the head. He flinched as she spoke,

"You should spend more time with your friends, Hanatarou."

Embarrassed, Hanatarou looked down and was about to comment that he was sure they wouldn't mind missing his company when Isane turned her back on him and opened the door into the infirmary.

The care required for colds and broken bones did not require extensive privacy or individual attention and, as such, the large room that Hanatarou followed Lieutenant Kotetsu into was quite unlike the individual, private rooms given to the grievously wounded, the nobility and other higher echelon Shinigami such as Captains. The main infirmary was well lit and warm, with beds lined neatly for those who required them, and seating for those who were merely waiting to have minor ailments treated. There were neatly organised supply stations strategically placed around the room and Fourth Division members bustled efficiently around the whole area, running errands, healing and uplifting the spirits of their fellow Shinigami who arrived here weary, in pain and, more often than not, emotional. Hanatarou smiled as he looked around; no matter how many times he walked in here he always felt a certain sense of pride at the work the Fourth Division did.

All Fourth Division members automatically reacted to the sense of brisk efficiency that permeated the very air in the infirmary, a deep seated association with the room and the need to do your job, do it well and, do it quickly. It was here that most new Division members spent the majority of their time on healing duties and, from the beginning, respect for the room and their duties here was instilled in the new recruits. As such, when Isane stopped near a supply station and looked over her shoulder at Hanatarou her voice was all business,

"There's soup on the stand in the far corner, so help yourself when you get a chance. We don't have as many in tonight since we managed to send a lot of the Eleventh Division members home earlier this morning—"

The young healer shuddered, glad he had managed to somehow dodge that unfortunate shift. Egged on by their fearlessly optimistic, pink-haired Lieutenant several Eleventh Squad members had fought one another on a wooden bridge near their barracks. The result of their over-enthusiasm and the ice coating the bridge had been predictable, and they had all ended up here. Large groups of Shinigami from one squad or another were common and would have, ordinarily, been acceptable to deal with. However, members of Kenpachi's Division rarely enjoyed coming to the Fourth Division for anything, so the idea of having a small group of them all at once, intermittently raging about whose fault it was that they were there and demanding to know why they couldn't return to their barracks when they were clearly _fine_, was more than Hanatarou thought he could handle.

While he had been lost in his own thoughts Isane had knelt down to rummage through one of the cupboards attached to the supply station, eliciting clunks, thuds and tinkling noises, the damage from which the young Seventh Seat tried not to think about. He'd straighten it up later. The silver-haired Shinigami finally emerged with what appeared to be a large lump of thick fabric in her hands. She smiled and thrust the pile towards him, saying,

"Here you go. Your friends from the human world heard about the hard winter we've been having and sent this back with Kuchiki-san for you."

Hanatarou's eyes widened as he reached out to take the bundle and, as his hands grasped the unexpected gift, the thick, somewhat fuzzy, dark fabric it unfolded itself (if, indeed, how it had been stored could be referred to as "folded") to form the shape of a garment. Isane yawned and straightened, before looking around the room and commenting,

"Actually, it's pretty well under control for the moment, so go put that on and get yourself some soup before you start."

His face brightening with a genuine smile Hanatarou bowed before hurrying off towards the soup.

Settled in an out of the way corner, Hanatarou wrapped his hands around the warm mug of soup and sighed contentedly. He was warm, safe and ready to take on a hard day's work doing what he was good at, somewhere where he was appreciated and being useful. Somewhere where he really felt he _belonged_. As he sipped the soup cautiously he snuggled into the warmth provided by the thick fabric covering his arms, torso and curling up to tickle his neck. What had Lieutenant Kotetsu called it when he had asked her? Ah, that's right – a coat.

**A/N: **Again, I hope you enjoyed and reviews are much appreciated! Also, if you happen to have any ideas or input with regards to the spelling/naming conventions (-taichou vs. Captain etc.) that would be much appreciated. This is a new fandom for me and I found it hard to get the balance right.


	2. Distracted

**Disclaimer: **_"Bleach"_, its characters, major concepts and related ideas are the property of Tite Kubo (and probably a lot of other people who aren't me). This unauthorised work of fanfiction is intended for personal entertainment purposes and not for profit; please, don't sue. If you happen to have any rights to the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.

**Distracted**

A butterfly wafted in through the half open door, not a hell moth, an actual, brilliant orange butterfly. It turned over in the air quickly, as if thinking it had impeded on something private before whisking out the way it had come.

The hallway outside the door, beyond which the butterfly had fled, was interesting from this angle, the way the door intersected with the lines of the floorboards and the way the solitary red support pillar, only half visible, contrasted starkly against the white paper of the door… It was amazing how this one stripe of the entire world could be so fascinating.

The shadows that the members of the Fourth Division made as they walked past the door were also interesting. It was almost a game to predict who the shadow was before they emerged into view for a split second and then disappeared out of direct line of sight. So quick! So entertaining.

"Hanatarou!"

Startled the short Seventh Seat blinked, his novel section of world turning back into the door to the cleaning supplies room. He turned back around quickly and stuttered, embarrassed to have been caught not paying attention,

"S-sorry!"

Iemura sighed and shoved a broom into a startled Hanatarou's hands.

"More sweeping, less daydreaming."

Sheepishly Hanatarou took the broom and bowed again in apology before turning to head out into the hallway. He really did need to stop spacing out when other people were around...

**A/N:** Thank you for reading! Reviews, input and constructive criticism much appreciated!


	3. Transient

**Disclaimer: **_"Bleach"_, its characters, major concepts and related ideas are the property of Tite Kubo (and probably a lot of other people who aren't me). This unauthorised work of fanfiction is intended for personal entertainment purposes and not for profit - please, don't sue. If you happen to have any rights to the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.

**A/N: **Thank you to all who have reviewed or favourite this story so far and my apologies for taking a bit to update it. I hope you enjoy this instalment and, as always, reviewers are loved! ^^

**Transient**

The Shinigami's breath lifted his chest with a shudder; it was as if his body could no longer stand the strain of sucking down life. His eyes were slightly vacant from pain, and from suddenly being able to see the edges of this world, there was fear there, too. The young healer knelt beside him, hands outstretched and eyes fixed desperately on his patient, soothing, nonsense words hissing from between his teeth, a frantic jumble of syllables. He felt as if his reiatsu was being sucked from him with the force of the spells, rather than being given away and he pushed it on, outward, thinking that if he just gave a little more they could both hold out until Captain Unohana arrived to save them both. Blood pooled around Hanatarou's knees, soaking through his hakama. There was so much.

He sensed it before he visibly saw the signs. The strain on his reiatsu intensified for a moment, as if something was pulling on it, grasping at it, before the tension began to recede faster than it had come. His voice shaking the small Seventh Seat continued his comforting murmuring, ceaseless and desperate. The injured Shinigami quivered for a second before lying still, the shine in his eyes fading slowly.

"No."

Hanatarou frowned, stress creasing his brow and making his outstretched hands shake. The glow from the healing kidou began to slowly disappear.

"No. No. No."

He heard hurried footsteps behind him and felt an overwhelming feeling of guilt and of failure well up inside of him to rest heavily on his heart. He tried to cast the spell again, desperately trying to shift the balance of what had occurred,

A hand was laid upon his shoulder. He paused for a moment before turning to see Captain Unohana, her trademark smile in place.

"It's done, Hanatarou."

The short healer shook his head furiously, his voice verging on hysteria,

"No! No, I promised him! I promised him he'd be ok once you got here!"

"Hanatarou—"

Tears began to slide down his face as the gravity of the moment set in. His shoulders shook as he looked at his Captain.

"I failed him…"

Her hands gentle but firm and with a strength that belied her calm exterior Unohana slowly pulled the distraught healer to his feet and led him a few steps away from the body. Behind him Lieutenant Isane moved in and began preparing the body so that it could be returned to his division, the Sixth.

Captain Unohana looked the young healer in the eyes,

"You kept your promise, Hanatarou. He's not hurting now—"

"I didn't promise him it wouldn't hurt! I promised him it'd be ok, and he's not, he's the opposite to ok, he's—"

Placing a hand on each of his shoulders and not breaking the eye contact the Fourth Division Captain continued,

"Hanatarou, in many ways the Fourth Division is considered the division for the weak. However, they underestimate our strength. It takes courage to try and save someone despite knowing you might not succeed. It takes courage and compassion to stay with someone while they leave here because _nothing_ is more terrifying for the healer or the patient in that moment…"

Hanatarou's lower lip quivered as he fought back the sobs and he looked away. His resolve along with his adrenaline fuelled strength were fading now, leaving him a hollow, exhausted shell.

"… and it takes courage to keep going."

He looked back to his Captain and she continued,

"Life is transient, Hanatarou - we all lie somewhere along the spectrum of living and dead, for all that we are Shinigami. Your gift, your curse, and where you must be courageous is in helping beings at _all_ points of that spectrum. We can hope and pray that the amount of people we pull back into our realm outweighs those that we lose, but we must also take solace that when we do lose them we do so the way we do everything else – with courage and compassion. Remember, those who grieve are loved. You will inevitably heal those who don't deserve it, and not be able to heal those who do, however that is not always your call to make. What you can control is how you handle the situation."

Hanatarou stared at his Captain for a moment before carefully shrugging her hands away finally giving way to the sobs,

"Well, handling this situation sucks."

With that he sat down on the grass, rolled over onto his side and wailed. Great heaving, choking, watery cries of pain. Looking down on him, her smile transformed into a frown of pity Unohano replied quietly,

"Yes. It does."


	4. Dignity

**Disclaimer: **_"Bleach"_, its characters, major concepts and related ideas are the property of Tite Kubo (and probably a lot of other people who aren't me). This unauthorised work of fanfiction is intended for personal entertainment purposes and not for profit - please, don't sue. If you happen to have any rights to the anime described here and find the posting of this fanfiction offensive or harmful, please contact me, and I will be happy to remove it.

* * *

**Dignity**

Hanatarou found himself polishing the floorboards in the entrance hall of the coordinated relief station when they arrived. The front door slapped aside, revealing the darkened courtyard beyond and, from Hanatarou's perspective, two pairs of waraji clad feed and the hems of black hakama. Hastily the small seventh seat straightened, sitting back on his heels and looking sheepishly up at the two new arrivals.

The two Shinigami looked down at Hanatarou, obviously as temporarily stunned to see him on his knees scrubbing the floors as he was to see them. A cool breeze drifted through the open door, bringing the quiet night in to the entrance hall.

Hanatarou quickly looked over the two. A dark haired, square-jawed Shinigami was holding up another, smaller man whose long, brown hair was beginning to matt together from a steady stream of blood seeping from the gash in his head. Hanatarou blinked before hastening to his feet and stepping towards the injured Shinigami, noting as he did that it appeared as if the whole left side of the man's head had taken a solid beating.

"Oh, come in I'll have a look at –"

"Hey!" The square-jawed Shinigami yelled at Hanatarou who froze in shock.

The night breeze slipped through the door again, this time bringing notes of alcohol from the two Shinigami, along with the quiet.

Hanatarou wavered, but when no further assault came he tentatively opened his eyes. He hadn't even realized he had closed them, so instinctive had the motion been.

The dark-haired Shinigami had stopped and was swaying slightly on his feet – whether from the weight of his friend or alcohol Hanatarou wasn't sure. The injured Shinigami's hakama had fallen open slightly and Hanatarou glimpsed a symbol stitched onto the interior: 11th Squad.

That explained a lot.

The uninjured Shinigami stared at Hanatarou with half-glazed eyes. The seventh seat guessed that the man was actually trying, and failing, to glare at him.

"He didn't lose, alright?"

Even though he was slightly drunk the 11th Squad member's voice was perfectly coherent, nonetheless, Hanatarou found he could do nothing but blink in surprise at the words, unable to make sense of them.

"Uh, what –?"

"He didn't lose." The drunk Shinigami repeated firmly.

Hanatarou nodded quickly, still uncomprehending, before taking a step forward, his eyes on the injured Shinigami – the one who had allegedly 'not lost' and who now appeared to have passed out, blood still sluggishly oozing from his wound.

"Ok, he didn't lose, but –"

The small healer reached a hand out to the injured Shinigami, all his training beginning to nag at him to help. More than nag – it was what he _did_. The only thing he felt he got any recognition for. The drunk Shinigami stumbled back away from him, almost dropping his 'victorious' friend.

"Hey! What're you –"

Maybe because he was sick of the 11th Squad treating him and the rest of the 4th as worthless, even when they needed healing (which was often), maybe he knew the two were drunk and unconscious respectively and therefore less able to harm him, or maybe he just wanted to be able to do his job and not stand in the open doorway getting cold. Whatever the reason, Hanatarou grew bold.

"You're _here_ because your friend is injured and we can help!"

It was probably meant as a threatening lunge but with the combined weight of his friend and his inebriation the Shinigami tripped, landing on his knees and causing his friend to fly forward off his shoulder. Instinctively Hanatarou stepped forward, arms out to catch the injured man –

̶ and was knocked to the floor.

Wheezing, trying to convince his lungs that air was a good thing to have in them, Hanatarou lay sprawled on the floor, weighed down by the unconscious, bleeding and _smelly_ 11th Squad member. Gritting his teeth he sat up, shifting the dead weight of the Shinigami forward into his lap. He looked up to see the square-jawed Shinigami _actually_ glaring at him this time.

"You bastard! We're 11th Squad, do you know what that _means_?"

Hanatarou was stunned for a moment, not really following but sure that he could think of several things that being in 11th Squad "meant" but his newfound boldness didn't extend to stupidity.

"We're strong, we like to fight, and we don't lose to 7th Squad punks in bars. Kenpachi-taichou would expect nothing less!" The drunk Shinigami continued, apparently unaware that Hanatarou was no longer listening. He'd heard 11th Squad bluster before. The difference was that these two were no longer scary; in fact, they were almost verging on pathetic.

Standing slowly Hanatarou wrapped his hands in the collar of the unconscious man's hakama – he'd never be able to actually lift him so he'd have to settle for dragging him until another 4th Squad member noticed and came to help. Bracing himself and ignoring the tirade the drunk Shinigami was making in the background he took a step backwards.

The injured man didn't move.

Groaning inwardly Hanatarou took a firmer grip on the dark fabric and _heaved_. The unconscious man slid a few inches backwards. Better than nothing. Frowning Hanatarou pulled again, obtaining another few inches.

Slowly but surely Hanatarou hauled the unconscious man along the entrance hall. He paused momentarily to perform a quick healing kidou on the man to stem his bleeding, but otherwise kept moving backwards towards the main relief station. Finally, he heard voices further down the hallway and heard footsteps approaching him.

"Hanatarou, what are you –?"

Hanatarou didn't recognize the taller 4th Squad member who approached him, which was awkward because he obviously recognized Hanatarou. This was a common problem – the small healer didn't usually pay attention enough to learn other people's names or faces very quickly. Generally Hanatarou had found it was easier to ignore the problem and hope it cleared itself up.

"Could you help me, please? He's heavy…"

"Oh, sure!"

The taller Shinigami slung one arm around the injured man, allowing Hanatarou to pick up the other side and they made their way down the final few feet to the main relief station.

* * *

Hanatarou walked away from the injured 11th Squad member - Katsutoshi, his name was – carrying dirty bandages to the laundry. Katsutoshi's drunk friend had sobered up and the two were now loudly swapping their versions of the night. Their voices followed Hanatarou across the room.

"-and he was all '11th Squad have no loyalty or honour!' and you just jumped up and –"

"I know! I totally spaced out, all I remember was pulling out my zanpaktou and –"

"You did awesome! You should totally challenge 9th Seat –"

The taller Shinigami who had helped Hanatarou carry Katsutoshi in appeared beside him, carrying own dirty linens to be washed.

"Heh, those 11th Squad guys, they're so _loud_!"

"Yeah, they seem ok now, though." Hanatarou replied, smiling uncertainly as he followed the other healer into the laundry.

"Yeah, well, I guess you've got to find the dignity in your job, huh?" The taller Shinigami said looking over his shoulder with a lopsided grin as he dumped the rest of his linen on the huge pile, before turning to leave and waving cheerily over his shoulder, "See you around, Hanatarou!"

_The dignity in your job_, Hanatarou thought.

He'd never seen it that way. The 11th Squad members clung to martial prowess because it represented their dignity, their pride in doing their job well. The same way Hanatarou prided himself in how he healed anyone who needed it – regardless how drunk, rude or aggressive they were. With a small smile he walked out of the laundry with a new perspective on the oafish 11th Squad.

* * *

**A/N: **Comments and feedback always welcome! And thank you, again, to those who have reviewed so far ^^


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